


Mending What's Priceless

by jeien



Category: Sound Horizon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book Repair Shop AU, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeien/pseuds/jeien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>"He’ll only fix the cosmic order if it was for Hiver’s sake."</i>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>In which Marchen doesn't know what else to do to ease Hiver's heartache and secretly has a book repaired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mending What's Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that cool video that went around Tumblr for a while with the Japanese book repair guy who fixed up a dictionary. It was really awesome. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Marchen knew how fond Hiver was of his books. The young man had been collecting several novels since he was a boy, even keeping the children’s stories his parents had lovingly stocked up on in preparation for his arrival into the world—an event that, he felt for some inexplicable reason, was a long time in the making. Each work was a close friend that kept him company during his childhood while illness kept him in bed most days. Even when the illness finally left him, Hiver continued collecting, reading, and—as Hiver confessed one day—preparing for a day when illness would strike him down again. As unsuited as those kinds of thoughts were for someone of Hiver’s natural disposition, Marchen could hardly find it in himself to encourage him otherwise: the grim outlook was a part of his own personality, after all.

Still, Marchen knew that the expression his friend wore—the slightly lidded eyes, the pursed lips that almost took the form of a pout from biting lightly on the inner flesh, the scrunched brows—surely violated some cosmic law placed upon the universe to prevent Hiver Laurant from being unhappy. It felt wrong to see Hiver so upset, although he could understand why. Upon arriving at the Laurant household—since Hiver had been so kind to him as to invite him over to celebrate his birthday—and promptly meeting his parents, they found one of Hiver’s favorite childhood reads on the verge of falling apart.

“Mama is so sorry, mon petit,” Hiver’s mother apologized. “Your Papa and I often take it out with us to read by the pond when we miss you and one day it... It fell into the water and when we tried to dry it out, a stray cat had gone and leapt onto it, clawing on the cover and the pages and...”

“It’s okay, Mama,” Hiver interrupted. “It was just a book.”

Those words sank into Marchen’s stomach like the heavy burden of his friend’s unspoken sadness. It felt wrong to be hearing them from Hiver, who loved books like he loved life and loved people. As they left the Laurant household a few days later, with Hiver’s birthday seeming to have comforted him from the loss of a dear friend, Marchen slipped the ruined book into his duffel bag without a trace.

He’ll only fix the cosmic order if it was for Hiver’s sake.

\--

“Do I know anyone who can restore books?”

Marchen huffed irritably, “Yes, Ido, yes—and you don’t need to repeat it thrice.”

“Well, you did mention the second time that simply buying a new book isn’t an option. Just making sure we were on the same page, if you will,” Ido said, smirking to himself about his play on words.

“I swear to god, Ehrenberg,” Marchen hissed, gripping his eating utensils with a tightly clenched fist, “if you’re not going to take me seriously—”

“Shush, Corpsey, I’m thinking.” Ido expertly dodged the plastic fork thrown his direction and reclined back against his chair. “Well, if you’re not really on any type of budget, then I know a good place that’s nearby.” 

It turned out that the place Ido had spoken of was a few blocks down from the main shopping district—a small and unassuming book store sporting a white brick exterior and a pair of windows with wooden shutters. A small sign that read “BOOK STORE” hung on the door and beneath the bold type were the words: “Book repair services also available.” Marchen checks for the billionth time during his walk there that Hiver’s damaged book is still in his bag before opening the door and entering the building.

“I’m telling you, Ellie, you should read it even if it’s only for drinking game purposes! Totally worth it!”

“Orion, for the last time, I’m still not gonna read the damn thing just for that!”

“Hohoho, it does sound like a rather fun time.”

“See, even Milos agrees you should do it!”

“Gramps—! Oh, you two are horrible, encouraging excessive drinking like that. And quit ganging up on me!”

The sound of laughter immediately filled his ears. Marchen couldn’t see the three voices who had been talking past the rows of bookcases and displays. He walked further down the aisles, making sure to dodge the ladders that were conveniently placed to reach the taller shelves and not get startled by the hanging plants as they swung leisurely at his passing. Once he navigated to the back of the storefront, a long countertop came into view: with a register, some more plants, and the three men he had heard coming in: an old man and two teenagers. The two younger ones he recognized as his seniors in school: Elefseus and Orion.

“Excuse me,” Marchen said, interrupting their conversation.

Orion’s eyes lit up and cried out, “Hey, you’re the zombie kid from our school!”

Marchen had been too stunned at the exclamation to be offended, but Elefseus shoved Orion to the side in his stead.

“Don’t mind him; he’s being an idiot like always. Marchen, right?” Marchen didn’t really talk to Elefseus at all in school—how did he know his name? Elefseus, reading the question in his eyes, quickly added, “I have classic lit with Hiver and he talks about you a lot. What can we help you with?”

“Oh, um.” Marchen rummaged through his bag and gently pulled out the book. “One of my acquaintances pointed me here and I saw you do book repairs, so…”

The elderly man who had been hanging around the counter with the two teenagers stepped forward and extended a hand towards Marchen. “May I, young man?”

Right, the book. Marchen handed it off to the man—Milos? The store owner maybe?—and stood awkwardly while he inspected it with squinted eyes. He then smiled, that _ohoho_ from earlier passing through his lips. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I can’t do much of the challenging repairs anymore. But you’re in luck, young man. This book isn’t as damaged as it could be, so even little Elef here can fix it for you.”

He could hear Elefseus mutter _Again with the ‘little?’ I’m almost eighteen_ under his breath as he took the book from the old man, minding the flaking cover and frayed edges. Elef also looked it over and nodded to himself before heading through a small door behind the counter. Milos smiled at Marchen.

“Give it a week. It’ll be as good as new by then.”

\--

Elefseus didn’t talk to him about it at school, though they did pass by each other every now and then. His senior was a sharp person—he probably knew Marchen wouldn’t want to talk about the repair in school. He was grateful for Elefseus’s silence. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise for Hiver.

Hiver had gone back to his normal, bubbly self ever since they returned to school—with people none the wiser about the events that transpired at his home during that one weekend. Neither of them brought up the conversation about the book and Marchen figured it was better that they continued on like nothing happened. Marchen was, however, getting antsy as the week went on about the state of the repair.

Ido sighed when he voiced his worry the morning before he was due to go back to the shop. “Marchen, Marchen, Marchen. Would I ever steer you wrong?”

“Yes,” Marchen replied curtly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ido said, leaning back against his chair in the cafeteria. “But really, Milos has been doing this for decades now and the quality of his work’s never declined even in old age. If he’s apprenticing someone, then all the better. They’ll turn out just as good as the master himself.”

“You seem to know a lot about them.”

“My dear Corpsey,” Ido said with a wink, “what kind of man would I be if I didn’t know everything?”

Marchen frowned with disgust. “Less of an asshole, maybe?”

The blond laughed, “You can only wish for so much.”

\--

Once the final bell rang later that afternoon, Marchen made a beeline for the bookstore. Of course, he had to excuse himself from Tettere’s pestering to hang out and eventually give the spiel about his deepest concerns for Marchen’s love life, but he still managed to make it off school grounds relatively undisturbed. He thankfully didn’t run into Hiver on his way out.

“Marchen,” he heard a familiar voice call out from behind as he neared the shop. Elefseus jogged up to him and slapped a hand across his back in greeting. “I finished the pages inside and rebound it, but Gramps said he wanted to do the cover so I left it to him to finish up. It should be done by now.”

He could only manage a wordless nod as he followed Elefseus inside, who called out a _Hey, I’m here; Orion’s gonna come a little late_ as he expertly dodged the ladders and hanging plants. Marchen trailed behind him, unable to shake off the nervousness of finally being able to retrieve Hiver’s book. Second thoughts began to flood his mind as he realized: _What if he doesn’t like it?_

Elefseus, almost sensing his trepidation, rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the wrist—“Come on, already!”—and pulled him all the way to the counter where Milos was waiting with a small bundle in his hands.

“Ah, there you are,” the old man said with a smile as he offered the bundle to Marchen. “Well, here we are. I think we did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.”

Marchen slowly unwrapped the white linen cloth covering the book and let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he held. His pale fingers traced the natural cracks of hard cover and felt the pages’ gilded edges flip across his fingers smoothly.

“It’s beautiful,” he remarked.

“Had to trim off a little on all sides to really knock out the frayed edges, but I figured the details are more than enough to make up for it being a bit smaller,” Elefseus explained, leaning back against the counter on the heels of his hands. “Think it’s good enough for Hiver?”

“How did you—?”

Elefseus grinned, “I know the guy well enough to tell when something’s wrong. You being awkward around him first day back tipped me off too.”

Well, this was a little embarrassing. Marchen coughed into his free hand and stuttered, “Um, yes. I think he’ll like it. I hope he will, at least.”

Milos rang up the charge for the repair and Marchen paid for it right as Orion’s voice bellowed from the front door of the shop. Elefseus groaned at his friend’s noisy arrival and went to scold him, grabbing a broom resting by the counter. Milos laughed quietly as Marchen securely tucked the book away in his bag.

“Thank you for your patronage, young man. I hope we see you again soon. As lively and amusing as it may be, it gets a little boring with just those two bickering all the time.”

\--

It took a little while to job his memory of how exactly to get to the Laurant household, but Marchen eventually found himself standing on the front porch with a finger shakily hovering over the door bell like it was going to zap him. _Come on, Friedhof_ , he thought _, just press the button_. Really, nothing could go wrong aside from Hiver hating the entire damn thing and being so offended that Marchen would stick his nose where it didn’t belong that they’d stop being friends entirely. A shiver went down his spine and his hand faltered. Maybe he shouldn’t have thought of that particular outcome.

The door opened on its own and Marchen jumped when he saw it was Hiver.

“My mom said she saw you out the window five minutes ago and I was wondering why you hadn’t rang the bell already,” Hiver said, stepping aside to invite him in. Marchen quietly thanked him before passing the threshold. “What’s up?”

His throat suddenly felt dry and only a cough escaped. Shit, this was already going horribly wrong. Hiver pursed his lips and worriedly asked, “Are you okay?”

_Ah, fuck it all_. Marchen ripped the zipper of his bag open, shoved his hand inside, and pushed the book, still wrapped in the linen cloth, into Hiver’s chest. His friend was surprised—or maybe he accidentally knocked the wind out of him—at Marchen’s sudden use of force and could only manage, “Um…?”

“Just,” Marchen strained to say, “just look at it already.”

Hiver uncovered the bundle just as gingerly as Marchen had earlier and gasped when he saw what was underneath the white linen. “This is…”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Hiver’s face. He stared off at a vase of hydrangeas and violets at their right to try and stave off the thoughts of _Shit, I fucked up, he hates me now, I shouldn’t have tried to_ —

“Marchen!” was all he heard before Hiver barreled into him using his entire body weight and wrapped his lanky arms around his shoulders. It was enough to knock them both onto the floor, with Marchen’s head barely missing the shoe rack.

“Holy _shit_ , Hiver,” Marchen cried out. “I could have died!”

Hiver seemed to have missed his near-death experience and buried his face into Marchen’s chest, “Ah, you! Where did you get this? How did you—?”

“I snuck it out of your house and got someone to fix it,” he said, cutting Hiver off. Marchen heaved a long sigh, wrapping an arm around Hiver’s waist. He saw the book placed on a small table behind Hiver—his friend must have put it down while Marchen hadn’t been looking. _Well good_ , he thought, _it would’ve been a waste if it had gotten bent from this little incident_. “You were really upset about it and it didn’t suit you at all so this is what I did to fix it. Honestly, listen to a guy when he’s yelling at you for nearly concussing him.”

They stayed like that for a while, lying on the floor in a weird hug, when Hiver began to laugh. Marchen looked down at him, thinking the guy finally snapped, and was met with a pair of lips to his cheek.

“Merci, Marchen,” Hiver thanked sweetly. Marchen’s face burned red and he pushed Hiver’s head back by the chin.

“You have no shame,” Marchen said, willing the blush on his cheeks to die down. “Don’t just go kissing people out of nowhere like that!”

Hiver laughed some more and said, “Ah, but it’s how I show my gratitude and affections for you, my dearest friend!”

“People are gonna think differently of the ‘dearest friend’ bit, you know.”

Marchen felt Hiver finally roll off him and stand up, brushing his pants. His friend hummed a note and said, “Well, I wouldn’t mind that. At least, if it’s with you.” 

The implications of those two sentences took a few seconds to process and by the time he opened his mouth to question them, Hiver triumphantly placed his hands on his hips and said, “Enough of that! How about we indulge in an afternoon snack? I’ll even read this to you since you kindly fixed it up for me.”

Marchen sighed and scratched the back of his neck in acquiescence. “Fine. What’ve we got to eat?”

Hiver smiled and happily led him to the kitchen. There were still so many questions he had wanted to ask. _But_ , Marchen thought as he caught Hiver’s infectious smile, _I guess the cosmic order’s been realigned so I guess that can wait_.


End file.
